


once bitten

by MonikaKrasnorada



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Coffeeshop AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-05-18 08:25:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14849213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonikaKrasnorada/pseuds/MonikaKrasnorada
Summary: A coffeeshop AU of sorts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can only write Armie x Timmy into AUs apparently. This will be short and maybe sweet-ish? Who knows what will happen? 
> 
> As always, this is a work of fiction. These two may resemble and share names with the boys we know and love, but it's all just made up in my head.

 

The coffee shop bustled with the usual early morning crowd. The business casual elite elbowed the carpool moms for supremacy to get that first caffeine-infused jolt they just couldn’t live one more second without. No business reports could be completed, no drive in a mini-van full of screaming primary schoolers would ever get done without a cup of coffee first. The world could fuck right off until the Goddess of Java had been thoroughly worshipped.

Timmy tended to take it all in stride as he did with most things. He didn’t understand the hullabaloo over coffee, but working in a coffee house, he kind of liked to keep the fact he hated the stuff to himself. So he just smiled as they waited like nervous little mice. They just couldn’t keep still. Those in their work attire, had their fingers constantly moving over the smooth surfaces of their phones,  the mothers chewed their perfectly manicured nails nervously. Yeah, Timmy had long ago given up trying to make small talk with any of them at this point. If he slipped and forgot, asking about the weather or if they had heard about a local news story, they would look at him as if he had two heads before craning their necks in agitation to see wheree the cup with their name on it sat in the queue.

He rarely made the mistake anymore.

But, then there was Tuesday/Friday guy. A completely different breed of customer, and the moment he walked into the shop it seemed to change the very atmosphere, bending the fabric of the universe around him. The humid, heavy-scented air behind the counter would shift and the hair on the back of Timmy’s neck would prickle with unease and something he refused to name. It had taken nearly two months for Timmy to realize there was a pattern to his visits and once he had, his obsession with the man had him requesting to always be working those days.

Timmy watched with surreptitious intent from behind the glass partition at the counter, stacks of paper cups and the bakery display offering camouflage to watch at his leisure as the man strutted into the shop. He literally dwarfed everyone around him, statuesque and at least a head taller than all those around him. And he liked that, Timmy could tell. With his blond hair and golden skin, his eyes the blue of the hottest flame, looking directly at him was like looking into the sun on a cloudless day. Blinding but beautiful.

His arrogance was a palpable energy, it undulated in waves around him; the ebb and flow of the moon on the ocean, pulling you in while simultaneously forcing you back. Rumours swirled around him, eddies of danger: a killer, deadly capable, silent as an undertow.

Fellow patrons in the coffee house moved in wide arcs around him, as if to get close would risk getting caught in his riptide. An unspoken warning they all subconsciously heeded. Their desire to remain out of his wake inside the little business seemed to bolster his swagger.

He didn’t seem like the type with time to wait, to have to linger in the company of mere humans with their mundane lives. So, Timmy took it upon himself to make certain Mr Tuesday/Friday never had to wait. He was punctual, always showing up at the same time.

Once he knew this, Timmy decided to make use of that juicy bit of intel, having his order ready for him his next visit before he could even step into the queue.

“Americano to go, sir,” Timmy announced firmly, holding the cup in the line of the man’s sight.

Timmy smiled to himself as he watched him look around, making certain Timmy wasn’t talking to someone behind him, surprised and caught off guard, the only time he'd ever shown a chink in his armor. With a dip of his chin and the lift of one side of his mouth, he stepped out of line, moving to the end of the counter where Timmy waited.

“Not sure if I’m flattered you know my order so well,” Timmy’s knees went weak at the sound of his voice, the first time he’d been blessed with hearing the deep, rich, honeyed tone say anything more than the name of the drink he wanted. “Or annoyed I’m that predictable.”

Timmy smiled, biting his lip and tilting his head in order to look up at the man through the tangle of his hair and the veil of his  lashes, hoping the effect might appeal.

“I would definitely go with flattered,” Timmy practically crooned.

The smile and tip he received in return more than proved he’d hit his mark.

Bolstered by the response, eventually, Timmy started passing along notes with the coffee to Mr Tuesday/Friday. Little slips of receipt paper scrawled with various niceties.

 

**_"Enjoy”_ **

 

**_“Have a nice day.”_ **

 

**_“Made on a new machine, let me know if it changed the quality.”_ **

 

Boring and run-of-the-mill but Mr Tuesday/Friday seemed to appreciate them as he read them on his way out the door, a smile on his face.

It wasn’t enough though. Timmy wanted to up the ante, see if he was willing to play. So after a couple of weeks, and many many moments of ‘alone time’ on those two days of the week when Timmy imagined the cup of coffee in those over-large hands was his own body, his notes took a turn.

  
  


**_“Loved the blue of that suit last week, matched your eyes”_ **

 

**_“Thank your tailor for me? Or if he ever needs help measuring that in seam, I’m your man”_ **

 

**_“The cut of those pants Tuesday should be illegal, can’t stop thinking of the view of you walking out the door”_ **

 

That last one had left Timmy flustered, his palms sweating as he passed it over. Maybe he had gone too far. Crossed a line. 

But no, it paid off as Timmy watched him pause with his hand on the door as he read it. He looked over his shoulder and Timmy let him see that he was looking, pulling his shoulders back, his chin lifted as if to invite his own perusal in return. A slow, lascivious smile spread across the man’s lips before he winked and walked out the door.

Timmy collapsed against the counter, hands hanging over the opposite side as he giggled to himself, flush with warm tingles, as if that look and  _ that smile _ had touched every inch of his naked skin.

Timmy lived with the memory of that smile and wink all weekend (as his right arm could verify) until Tuesday rolled back around. His fingers shook as he wrote out that day’s message, hoping he wasn’t completely stepping out of fucking line.

 

**_“Pulling a double. Off at 11. In case someone cares”_ **

 

Mr Tuesday/Friday stopped in the middle of the tiny dining area and turned around, coffee in one hand, note in the other. Timmy could see the paper between his fingers, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the inked words he had left there. 

Timmy’s heart dropped to a bloody, pulsing mass into his All-Stars.  _ Yep. Fucked it up. _ Only to grow dizzy as it soared, trying to rise and beat out of his chest, as Mr Tuesday/Friday smiled, nodded and left.

_ Ooo. What the fuck had he just done? _

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd and written on the fly. Just something to take my mind off of things.

“Busy day?” 

Timmy nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned from where he stood, hand still on the lock of the front door.

It wasn’t that he’d forgotten the note he’d passed Mr Tuesday/Friday earlier that morning. No, he’d spent the day half hard and hopeful but never really believed for a second he would actually show up.

But there he was and  _ oh, fucking hell _ .

He was leaning against the hood of a sea blue Z4, nearly the same color as the suit he’d worn days earlier that had made Timmy’s knees go weak. Out of his usual ‘uniform’ Timmy had grown overly fond of, he was not disappointed in the least to now see  his long legs covered in miles of denim, topped with a black and white striped pullover that fit him like a second skin.

Timmy’s mouth ran dry as he finished locking the door, shoving the keys into his pocket, before turning and slowly sauntering over to where he stood under the spotlight of the one streetlamp in the parking lot.

“Busy? Yeah,” his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Didn’t really think you’d show.”

Mr Tuesday/Friday nodded, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Did you not want me to?”

Timmy looked up, away from his perusal of the car, mouth twisted into a beguiling quirk. “Oh. No, I definitely wanted you to.”

The man stood away from where he leaned against the car, moving closer to Timothée remained on the sidewalk. Timmy felt as if he were being stalked, watching his slow approach, the near-silent crunch of loose gravel beneath his feet. Gooseflesh raced along  Timmy’s arms with a shiver.

There was a long moment Timmy endured, lifting his chin proudly as the man looked him up and down, some unreadable expression on his face.

“You’re not scared of me, are you?”

It wasn’t the question Timmy thought he would ask.

“No,” his nose scrunched. “Should I be?”

The man laughed again, low and sultry, the kind of sound you could bathe in.

“Definitely not, but most people are. It’s…  _ interesting _ to find someone who isn’t.”

“That makes me an enigma.”

The man hummed. “Makes you  _ something  _ alright.”

Timmy shrugged, digging the toe of his shoe into the concrete of the sidewalk. Both remained silent and as the moment held on, suspended, Timmy feared he was losing his chance… as if this opportunity wouldn’t come again unless he acted now.

“Nice car.” Lame, but it was all he could think of.  _ Fuck. _

“She’ll do,” he answered with false modesty and Timmy couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Yeah, just a beater, right?”

“It gets me where I need to go,” there was an undertone to his words that Timmy could feel in the pit of his stomach.

“So does the city bus.”

Mr Tuesday/Friday laughed and Timmy could swear he felt it like the touch of a hot brand to every square inch of his skin.

The moment hung suspended, brief like the flash of a firefly, an eternity in the blink of an eye when worlds collided and stars collapsed.

“Wanna go for a ride?” Quiet. Intent.

“Yes, please.” Breathless. Desire.

Mr Tuesday/Friday raised his chin in a quick motion for Timmy to follow, the trace of a smirk gracing his handsome face as he walked around to the passenger’s side. He opened it with a flourish, sweeping his hand aside with a tiny bow to allow Timmy to slide in.

He watched intently as Timmy ran his hands lovingly across the dashboard, taking in all the controls which seemed more suited to a cockpit than a high-end automobile. He leaned back into the seat with a sigh, caressing the smooth leather beneath him, soft as butter.

Mr Tuesday/Friday mumbled something Timmy couldn’t understand before closing the door and making his way around to the driver’s side. With practiced ease, he folded his long legs and slipped into the driver's seat which fit him like a glove.

The car rumbled to life with the press of a button.

“Oh, fuck me, it actually purrs,” Timmy crooned as he reached for his seatbelt, only to be stopped when Mr Tuesday/Friday leaned across him, reaching the belt before Timmy could grasp it.

He was so close, Timmy barely had time to register the heat of him against his side before he was startled by Mr Tuesday/Friday burying his face in Timmy’s neck. Timmy immediately tensed with a shocked gasp before melting, boneless in his seat. His skull met the headrest with a muted thump, allowing Mr Tuesday/Friday all the real estate he wanted. It was an invitation he greedily took advantage of, running the tip of his nose up the length of Timmy’s throat, breathing deeply.

A moan clawed its way out of Timmy’s mouth when he felt the warm tip of a tongue, feather-light, follow the trail his nose had made in a long slow sweep. It ended in a soft, but deliberate, bite to the hinge of Timmy’s jaw that ran like a hot wire straight to his cock.

“Mm, so do you, doll,” he teasingly growled against Timmy’s throat. Timmy  _ felt  _ the words more than heard them.

Timmy reeled, flushing white-hot with a heady mix of arousal and embarrassment, mortified with just how easily he could be turned to putty in this man's hands.

Perhaps sensing Timmy on the verge of unease with the quick turn of events, Mr Tuesday/Friday pulled back, his gorgeous mouth painted with a Cheshire grin. His sea blue eyes gone stormy, he winked at Timmy before shifting the car into gear, racing out of the parking lot.

The sudden acceleration matched Timmy's racing heart. He laughed, bright and bordering on manic, not understanding  what was going on, and definitely unable to predict what might happen next, though he couldn't help but  _ hope. _

The situation made his head spin, the glorious rush of speeding through the dark, deserted streets alongside this man. This  _ stranger _ who remained a mystery even though Timmy could now feel the ghost of his lips against his skin.

He didn’t even  _ know  _ his name.

The man to his left expertly maneuvered the car through turns as they made their way out of town. Timmy didn’t know where they were going. They could drive all night for all he cared. It was a warm night, the top down on the car. Wind whipped through his hair as he held his hands up to the sky, endless black dotted with stars and a sliver of moon. Timmy felt light enough that he might rise from his seat, fly and live there amongst them.

Timmy hoped the man appreciated his exuberance, could feel him watching him, imagining it was with growing lust and need. Timmy wanted to be wanted, to be beautiful...vivacious and carefree...and most importantly...his.

"So, where are we going?" he asked, watching with fascination the play of muscles in the man’s thighs hidden by smooth denim as he used the clutch, downshifting into a turn.

"Telling would ruin the surprise."

Timmy couldn’t help but giggle, clapping his hands in excitement. "Oh, I love surprises."

He could feel himself positively beaming at the man as they drove on and he suddenly felt the need to be bold.

“This is another pleasant surprise,” he smoothly admitted, sliding his hand across the divide between them to rest upon the man’s thigh. He caressed the expertly faded denim with his palm. "You never dress so casually. It's sexy as hell."

Timmy boldly slid his index finger down the length of Mr Tuesday/Friday’s thigh. Though was it really  _ too bold _ when the man could have easily made him come in his pants from merely licking his neck?

Without warning, Timmy’s hand was covered by the man’s much larger one, sliding, directing it over so that they  covered the strain at his fly. "Thought you might appreciate...that."

Thrilled, Timmy cupped him tightly, luxuriating in the feel of his cock pulsing against his palm, eager to get things underway.

"How thoughtful you are,” Timmy breathed with a sigh.

Timmy kept his hand there, massaging him playfully until the car slowed, turning into a tree-lined drive. There were lights Timmy could see, shining through the cover of trees,

_ "Fuck _ ,” Timmy whispered beneath his breath as the house came into view.

No, it wasn’t a house, it was a fucking  _ mansion _ , something Timmy only ever saw on the covers of the  _ Architectural Digest _ ’s on the table in the waiting room of his dentist’s office.

Timmy pulled his hand away, suddenly nervous, failing to be discrete as he wiped his now sweating palms on his thighs. The car came to a stop in front of a grand front entrance. Timmy sat staring up the stairs at the over-large glass and wooden door, the towering windows flanking it on both sides. His throat felt tight, suddenly realising he was possibly in  _ way _ over his head here.

He surreptitiously looked to the man sitting beside him to find him staring back with a dead-sexy grin and something feral,  _ hungry _ , in his eyes. Timmy shivered and wasn’t certain whether it was in fear or anticipation.

_ Fucking both, let’s be real here, Timo. _

Something niggled at the back of Timmy’s brain that maybe he should be scared, or at least worried? He had zero clue where he was, with a man he didn’t know, had told  _ no one  _ where he would be. He'd watched enough CSI to know this was the set-up for the perfect crime.  _ Anything  _ could happen to Tim here and no one would have a clue. But instead of being trepidatious like a normal person should be, Timmy was exhilarated, anxious and excited for whatever came next (hopefully himself).

Mr Tuesday/Friday squeezed Timmy’s knee, stopping him as he reached for the handle of the door. “Allow me.”

He hopped out of the driver’s seat, and came around to the passenger side, opening Timmy’s door as he unfastened his belt. It was ridiculous, the heat that bloomed in Timmy’s cheeks just from the act of someone opening a door for him.

The surprises kept coming as the man held his hand out to Timmy, waiting to help him from the car.

If he were about to be murdered, then he was to be killed with kindness it would seem.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr [@foryou-insilence](foryou-insilence.tumblr.com)


End file.
